


Tickling the ivories

by Cadetwyrm



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beverly Katz is the Best, College Student Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Murder Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piano, Rating May Change, Sugar Daddy Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Beverly Katz Friendship, is Hannibal a Cannibal?, without the murder i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadetwyrm/pseuds/Cadetwyrm
Summary: To pay for school and his obsession with his dog, Will offers himself up to be a piano teacher. He is quickly picked up to teach young Abigail, whose adoptive father Hannibal has some ulterior motives for the student.Aka another College!Will au
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Tickling the ivories

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if Will plays in canon(I just started rewatching) but I liked the idea in another fic. Also excuse me if I make mistakes about pianos, harpsichords and or fancy food. I've never played an instrument and only went to pastry school so my knowledge is all from google. lol. enjoy!

Will didn't have many useful talents or skills that could bring in money while he made his way through school. He was useless at any sort of human interaction as a whole, so retail or any other customer service was out of the question. But one on one interactions that he controlled to some extent was easier, so he could teach something. But no one wanted to learn fly fishing in the middle of Baltimore so he turned to his other skill. Piano.

So, with his roommate, Bev's help, he set up an ad on craigslist. He was mildly surprised when he got an email within the hour. It had an offer for more than he had asked for, a schedule that luckily didn't clash with his own, and an assurance that he would be fed dinner after the first lesson. He felt a tad reluctant as he read over the address. It was a nice part of town. Why would someone with that sort of money be looking on craigslist for a piano teacher?

Beverly, in her own caring way, told him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. And also pointed out how much of his meager funds he spent on specialty food for Winston, and that he could also use a good meal for himself rather than the ramen and whiskey he lived off of.

So that was how he found himself in front of a rather impressive brownstone, hands clutching nervously at his messenger bag full of beat up and second hand piano books. He took a deep, grounding, breath and made his way up the steps to ring the doorbell.

He felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the man who answered the door. Platinum blond and graying hair, pushed back with not a strand out of place, beguiling hazel eyes, and an absolutely unreadable expression. He wore an impossibly white button up, rolled up to his elbows, and a half apron over a pair of black pants.

Will must have been staring, because the man, who's flat lips twitched up in an amused smile, chuckled and held out his hand. “You must be Will Graham.”

Will looked at his cheek bone to avoid eye contact but still give the illusion that he was meeting the man's gaze. “Dr. Lecter.” He greeted, taking the offered hand. It was strong, steady and slightly rough with callouses. It lingered a little longer than Will was particularly comfortable but didn't say anything about it.

“You may call me Hannibal. Please, come in.” Hannibal stepped back, giving him room to step inside. Will caught an accent, something eastern European, but not quite Russian. “May I take your coat?”

The student unloaded his bag from his shoulder, setting it next to the door. He felt like a piece of second hand garbage in the well curated art gallery that was just the foyer with his worn clothes and frayed edges. He shucked off his beaten up army green jacket and handed it to the doctor, grimacing slightly at how badly it stuck out on the coat hanger.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Will flinched at the observation. He had mentioned he was a psychologist, and almost called it off if it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't the student he would be working with.

“I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” It was a non-answer, and the doctor would have probably dug when there was the race of footsteps down the stairs.

“Papa, Is this my teacher?” A little brunette girl was at the taller man's leg, wide blue eyes staring up at Will. A quick overview and he determined she looked nothing like her guardian. Adopted perhaps. She was eight, maybe seven if she happened to looked old for her age.

“Yes, this is Will. Will, this is my daughter, Abigail.” Hannibal introduced smoothly, patting her head affectionately, and as if the doctor had read his mind, he added “Not by blood. I was her god father.”

“Oh...” Will said dumbly and picked his bag back up. He was thankful when Hannibal motioned for them further into the house. They entered a sort of sitting room, with a couch, plush looking arm chairs and grand piano. It occurred to Will once again how odd that the man had chosen his service when there were far more professional teachers in the area.

“I wished for her to learn the harpsichord, however there were not any suitable teachers in the area.” Hannibal said, giving an elegant shrug. “So piano will have to suffice until I am able to teach her myself.” Will gave him an odd look, still confused as to why he was chosen. “Dinner will be ready in an hour, you will find me in the kitchen should either of you require anything.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Abigail's temple, earning a giggle. “Behave yourself for Will.”

“Of course, Papa.”

And well behaved she was. She soaked up everything he had to teach like a sponge, and Hannibal must have taught her a thing or two because she was already familiar with working the keys. She had to get used to pressing the keys at different pressures to produce softer or louder tones, which delighted her. Will indulged her in pressing keys at random to experiment with the sounds. If he recalled, harpsichords had less octaves, so she was particularly drawn to the high and low notes. He was going over the different terms, explaining what she didn't know and quizzing her on what she did, when Hannibal came to retrieve them for dinner, a heavenly smell following him.

Led to the dining room, Will almost choked at the sight of a print of Leda and the Swan handing over a mantel, glancing between it and young Abigail. Hannibal caught his gaze and smiled. “Art knows no age.” He said as he poured wine into a glass at the head of the table. “Wine?” He held the bottle, that looked more expensive then Will could afford in a month, in offering.

He nodded, and sat opposite of Abigail, who sat happily to Hannibal's right. In front of each of them was a plate with some kind of red meat, tender and falling to pieces, root vegetables, and a dark sauce. He didn't even need to look up at Hannibal for the man to explain.

“Gigot de sept heures d'hiver, Seven hour winter leg, or also known as gigot a la cuillère, leg of spoon as the lamb is tender enough to cut with the side of a spoon.” The doctor said, the french flowing easily from his tongue as he lay a napkin over his lap, his daughter and guest following his action. His eyes, a fiery gold in the low light, watched Will. “Served with a red Bordeaux.” With a motion of his hand he bid Will to start in on the meal.

So lamb, something Will had only once in his life. His dad got some and grilled it for him for his eighteenth birthday. It had nothing on even this first spoonful that melted in Will's mouth. He let out an appreciative hum without even thinking. Glancing over, Hannibal looked as pleased as a cat that caught the canary as he began eating his own serving.

“It's good, right?” Abigail said after swallowing her own first bite. “Papa is the best cook in the world!”

Her guardian chuckled. “I do take pride in what I put into my body.” He said before lifting his glass of wine to his nose, swirling it before taking a sip. Will found himself mirroring the movement, down to licking his lips after putting the glass back down. It was good wine. He wasn't a wine person but it was a lot smoother than the boxed stuff he and Bev occasionally shared. Hannibal would probably be scandalized at the mere thought.

“I hope you didn't go through the trouble of seven hours of cooking just to impress me.” Will said, scooping up a tender turnip to sink into. "If all your cooking is this good, it wouldn't have taken much."

He could feel the man's eyes on him, even as he focused on his own plate. “You do not give yourself enough credit, young Will.” His voice was alluring, as if trying to draw him in. He found himself tensing, wondering if this was all an elaborate way of getting in his pants. He couldn't see why though, he was a scruffy lost puppy as his roommate would describe him, and the photo he had uploaded with the ad was far from flattering. Hannibal was a doctor, who probably had the pick of the litter, and Will was a stray runt.

So he just hummed and sipped his wine. Abigail soon became the center of attention, talking at length about school and how excited she was for Thanksgiving break, ecstatic at the idea of spending more time with her father figure.

“What are you going to do for Thanksgiving Mr. Will?” She asked while Hannibal cleared away the plates and went to retrieve dessert.

Will hesitated. He hadn't really thought about it. He wouldn't be able to afford to visit his father, and Beverly would be gone to visit her own family. He traced the edge of his wine glass thoughtfully as the doctor returned, setting down a ramekin in front of each of them along with a dessert spoon.

“I'll probably end up just sharing some store bought turkey with my dog, Winston.” Will finally supplied, slightly enjoying the look of displeasure from his host. Abigail and her guardian met gazes for a moment.

“You may join us, Will.” Hannibal offered, using his spoon the crack the crust of burnt sugar on top of the dessert. “If you desire.”

Will flushed slightly under the older man's gaze, fumbling with his spoon. “I wouldn't want to intrude, and besides I don't like leaving Winston home alone when I can help it.” He cracked the crust on his crème brulee, taking a bite probably larger than polite. It was amazing, creamy, sweet, with a hint of citrus and a piney herb, causing another involuntary pleased sound.

“Orange and Rosemary” Hannibal answered the unasked question, the pleased look back on his face. “Winston may join you, if you would like to join us. We do always end up with far too much food.”

Abigail brightened up at the prospect of meeting Will's dog. She also nodded at her father's words. “We have turkey for weeks! I'm glad we only have it once a year.” 

Will couldn't help but smile at that. His father could never afford a bird that fed more than just the two of them. Sometimes they even just settled for chicken or some wild game that was a gift from a family friend. “I'll... consider it.” He finally answered.

Abigail considered that a victory. Once dessert was cleaned up, Hannibal settled his daughter in to finish some homework before bed, leaving Will to stand awkwardly in the kitchen. It was immaculate, one would have a hard time at guessing that Hannibal had spent seven hours in here making some fancy french lamb dish. He sipped at the wine the man had topped off for him to ease himself. He could just see himself out, avoid meeting the man alone without the buffer of his daughter, but felt that would be rude. And he needed this pay.

Hannibal returned, and held a check out to Will, who took it with a mumbled 'thanks'. He didn't want to look at the amount, not until he was far enough away that he couldn't insist on not taking it. He needed it and he had worked for it. He folded it and shoved it in his back pocket. 

“Why me?” He asked before thinking, and at the other man's raised eyebrow he continued, “I mean, I'm just some guy from craigslist. There are professionals all over this city. And I know you have the money.” He motioned around them with his wine glass.

Hannibal watched him for a moment, even if Will didn't quite meet his gaze. He then sighed, leaning against the counter.

“I was on craigslist in one last attempt at finding a harpsichord teacher. I am too busy with my practice to give Abigail the attention it takes to master the instrument. I was going to give up when your photo caught my eye.” He explained and Will saw no lie in his expression, and he wished he had because that statement made his face flush. Hannibal continued before Will could even form any thoughts, “While I know it is not the arrangement you expected, and we can part ways with nothing more said if it is not what you would like, but I would be interested in.... spoiling you. You are quite thin.”

Will was worried he would pass out from all the blood rushing to his face. And maybe other places but he didn't even want to think about that. He picked at his plaid button up at the thin comment, noticing how it hung off him with far more extra room than when he had started school. “Like... like a sugar daddy?” he asked, almost scandalized.

Hannibal bowed his head in a short nod. “If that is what you wish to call it.”

Will pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe that this handsome, rich man with a daughter was offering to be his sugar daddy. He also couldn't quite believe that he was considering it.

“What about Abigail?” He asked with a sigh. When he put on his glasses, Hannibal was bagging up some leftovers from dinner.

“I am always honest with her.” He said as if it was the simplest thing.

“Even about.... having a kept boy?” This time Will really was scandalized. But all that dried up on his tongue at the look he was given from the man.

“Once again, you give yourself far too little credit.” He moved over with the bag of leftovers, holding them out to Will. “Think on it. Whatever you are comfortable with, Will. Even if is cutting off our acquaintance.”

Will took the bag without thinking, swallowing nervously. “Uh... yeah...” He cleared the croak from his throat. “Um... we can get coffee some time?” He offered and the doctor smiled.

“That sounds lovely.” His voice had that same alluring quality it had before, that made Will want to do anything the man asked. He shook it from his mind.

“I should go. Winston needs his night walk.” He knew that Bev would have done that already but he need some excuse. Hannibal nodded, and walked with him to retrieve his coat and bag. “Thanks for dinner. It was really good.” He said, finally meeting those eyes, which were a glassy amber flecked with green. The look he was given, like he was some priceless art piece, made his swallow dryly.

“My pleasure, Will. You are welcome to join us for dinner any time.” He assured, letting a hand gently brush the small of Will's back, and the shorter man sputtered out a farewell before he fled.

Will stared at the amount on the check he had flattened out on the table. It was even more than Hannibal had offered in his first email, even more than the really good professionals were paid. Talk about spoiling.

Bev whistled over his shoulder, impressed as well, as she dug into the leftovers her roommate had brought home. “He's got money to throw around. All that for an hour? And you got dinner?”

Will ignored her and threw back the whiskey in his glass. He nearly choked when she asked, “Is he a DILF?”

“What the hell?” He asked, red faced once his airways cleared. She just shrugged when he shot her a glare.

“I mean, he's got money, a cute kid, can cook and I don't think he's a serial killer. The only thing left is good looks. That and a big co-”

“BEV!” She snickered and filled her mouth with a chunk of carrot to stifle herself. Will groaned and buried his face in his hands. “That's just the thing....” This peaked her interest and she finally sat across from him at the folding card table they used to dine when they weren't eating on the couch.

She watched him with bright eyes and he let out a long sigh. “He asked to be my sugar daddy.” He almost whispered the confession. But she heard. He could tell by the clatter of her spoon.

“Oh shit, really? Do you want to? Do you like him?” She shot the questions one after another, before finishing with, “You never answered if he's good looking or not.”

Will rubbed his face with his palms and sat back in his chair. “Really, I don't know, maybe and...” He hesitated but knew Beverly well enough that she wouldn't judge for her taste in anyone so long as they weren't a criminal. “yeah he's attractive.” He took out his phone and looked up Hannibal's practice, holding the screen up to show her his picture.

She whistled again. “Nice. Got that daddy look going for him.” Will flushed and sent her another glare.

“We're going for coffee.” He admitted and she reached across the table to give him a playful push on the shoulder, proud smile on her face.

“Go get it, pretty boy!” she encouraged. “And bring back more leftovers.”


End file.
